A Forbidden Masquerade
by mysticgirl1713
Summary: Hermione Granger's night of sheer perfection at the Masquerade Ball is marred when she realizes who is behind the mask. Suddenly, the memories don't seem so sweet. One-shot DM/HG


**A/N--hey guys! This is my first one-shot! Please read, enjoy, and review! :)**

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A Forbidden Masquerade

_Disclaimer: I own nothing. It's quite sad. _

Hermione Granger stared at her reflection with a small smile, her slender hands clasped tightly in front of her. Her hair fell in loose curls around her slim shoulders with unnatural grace, the deep russet color emphasizing the smooth paleness of her skin. She was adorned in a pale yellow dress, the beautiful satin hugging her gentle curves quite nicely before falling lightly to the floor. Her face was glowing with a certain sense of pride and flecks of brilliant gold shone in her bright brown eyes.

She had never felt so beautiful.

"Hermione," a quiet voice called out from behind her.

The witch turned to find Ginny Weasley, hurrying towards her, a light blush on her cheeks. The younger girl was a beauty in her own right, the deep green dress flowing around her magnificently as she stopped before Hermione with an excited smile. Behind her, Luna Lovegood was carelessly waltzing towards them, her light hair pinned back though a few stray tendrils had managed to escape the messy bun. She spun about, her deep cerulean dress twirling about her lithe form as she hummed an unfamiliar tune.

"You can't go to a masquerade ball without a mask," Ginny said quickly, recapturing her friend's attention. She thrust an unnecessarily embellished mask into Hermione's hand before placing her own against her young face. Luna already wore her mask, the strangely colored feathers hardly matching her evening gown.

_But,_ Hermione thought with a grin,_ that was probably how she planned it._

"Let's go," Ginny said hurriedly as Hermione put her mask on, "we're already fashionably late; we can go make our grand entrance."

Nodding in subtle agreement the three friends drifted to the Great Hall, coming to a brief pause at the entry. Hermione could hear the growing excitement on the other side of the entrance, the pulsing music resonating through the castle rhythmically. She was suddenly terrified to walk through the door; it seemed much safer to be back in her dormitory studying, much less vulnerable.

A gentle tug at her arm pulled her from her thoughts and she turned to see Ginny staring at her, her dark eyes brimming with impatience but shining with a deeper understand than expected from a girl her age. A faint smile touched her lips and as though reading her mind, she whispered, "You look beautiful; you have nothing to be worried about."

"No one will know who you are with your mask anyway," Luna spoke absentmindedly from her other side. "The art of a masquerade is the strip everyone of their former prejudices and force them to simply accept people without prior notions."

Ginny gave her a baffled look before Hermione let out a quiet laugh and pushed the door open, welcoming the rush of energy she felt.

The lights were dim, flickering candles floating near the towering ceiling; long tables lined the walls of the large room, an unimaginable amount of food piled high on each one. There were a few small tables scattered through the Great Hall, but from what Hermione could see, most of her classmates were dancing.

"Good luck," Ginny whispered before disappearing into the throng of people, followed closely by Luna.

Hermione took a deep breath, her nerves slowly returning as she was left alone once again. She scanned the crowd, impressed with the glamorous dresses and striking tuxedos that filled the room, and she suddenly felt very insignificant.

She stepped towards a table, collapsing into a chair as gracefully as she could with a sigh. Her doubts were nearly unbearable as she sat alone at the table, her hands folded neatly in her lap. She had no idea why she had allowed her friends to pressure her into coming; the entire situation was uncomfortable, the unfamiliar setting was more intimidating than Hermione wanted to admit.

"What is a beautiful young lady doing sitting all alone?"

Hermione's mind froze. She could feel a faint warm blush creeping on her cheeks as a smooth hand fell on her shoulder lightly. Forcing her gaze away from the table, she turned to see a tall young man looking down at her. His mask was simple and unable to hide the obvious handsome features of his face and the shadow of a smile that touched his lips. Hermione was captivated by his apparent beauty, but it was his eyes that left her breathless.

A pair of silver metallic orbs captured her gaze, the faintest hues of sapphire flashing in the candlelight. They were absolutely mesmerizing and Hermione found it impossible to look away. His gaze was so intense, his eyes shimmering with an appreciation that Hermione couldn't quite understand.

She vaguely remembered that he had asked a question and began to open her mouth to respond, but she hadn't quite found her voice. The young witch offered an apologetic smile to the mysterious man, relieved when his eyes softened and his lip curled into a crooked smirk.

"Speechless I see," he teased, his tone deliberately light. It wasn't until he spoke again that Hermione realized she recognized his voice. Before she could spare it too much thought, he offered his hand to her and whispered, "Thankfully, I don't believe dancing requires any speaking."

She stared at him is disbelief before she rested her hand on top of his, surprised to feel it trembling slightly. His fingers clasped around hers firmly but with unnecessary care as he helped her to her feet before leading her to the dance floor.

Somewhere a piano rang out majestically, a hauntingly beautiful melody wrapping itself around Hermione, lulling her into a serene state. Suddenly, the man turned back towards her, sliding into a deep respectful bow, his hand still holding hers delicately. Blushing despite herself, Hermione swept herself into a surprisingly fluid curtsy feeling more confident. When she rose, she stood taller than before, though the smile on her face betrayed her nerves.

The man took her hand and gently placed it on his shoulder before resting his hand gingerly at her waist. Hermione's gaze found the floor, suddenly embarrassed again. Two cool fingers slipped beneath her chin and lifted her head tenderly until her eyes found his.

"You don't have to be afraid," he murmured kindly as his other hand found hers. He pulled her closer to him, bending his head so his lips were frightening close to her ear. "You're the most beautiful woman in this room tonight."

Hermione shuddered at the feeling of his warm breath against her neck but felt her body stepping towards him of its own accord. The hand at her waist slipped around her back, drawing her even closer until she was pressed against him in an almost intimate manner.

And they danced.

Time around her stood still, the moment undeniably perfect as Hermione danced in the arms of a charming stranger. She rested her head against his shoulder allowing the piano's beautiful song penetrate her soul and carry her feet with more poise than she ever thought possible. The piano began to crescendo and Hermione felt her blissful happiness suddenly overwhelm her.

She began to hum, her voice an angelic soprano as she weaved an intricate harmony high above the melody that the piano continued to play. She felt her awkwardness slowly ease into nothing as the duet continued endlessly. What happened next startled her into a brief silence.

He began to hum with her, his voice within an octave of the melody creating moments of dissonance followed by rich resolution.

_A tenor,_ she wondered in awe.

She allowed herself to join him in the song, together their voices blending with the piano in a beautiful symphony. Hermione felt her eyes fill with tears; it was a truly magical moment.

And just like that the moment had passed; the song faded into silence and their voices cut off simultaneously. Cheers erupted around them as a new song began, but Hermione and her dance partner remained very still, locked in each other's embrace.

As their fellow classmates began to dance around them, Hermione tilted her head back towards his face meeting his incredible eyes. They looked back at her with calm contentment. She blinked once, no longer able to hold back the moisture in her eyes, and the shining orbs of silver softened slightly. Her hand suddenly felt empty as his fingers reached up to wipe the tears away. His knuckles rested against the side of her face gently, and Hermione said the only word that came to her mind.

"Wow."

The man stared down at her, leaning closer to her until his lips were only a breath away from hers.

"Wow, indeed."

Their lips met tenderly, his hand caressing her face lightly as his other hand wound more tightly around her small form. Hermione was shocked but did not resist. His fingers trailed down her face and slipped around to clasp the back of her neck, deepening the kiss. Hermione felt his tongue slip into her mouth with subtle ease, dueling hers playfully as she tilted her head, giving him better access. It was passionate and unreserved: so unlike her that it left her lightheaded.

Nothing had ever felt so right.

She finally pulled away from him, breathless even as he placed light kisses along her jaw until he reached her ear. He nuzzled against the side of her neck before whispering, "May I have the honor of knowing your name?"

Hermione froze; this was not part of the plan. Her fears crashed into her so heavily that she nearly stopped breathing. If this man knew who she was, he would surely regret the night, and she didn't think she could handle the embarrassment.

She shook her head frantically before pulling herself away from his arms and hurrying towards the exit. She pushed through the doors into the empty foyer only to hear a voice call out behind her.

"Please wait!"

Hermione froze at the sound of his voice; it sounded so desperate.

She turned to face him. He was walking towards her with lingering hesitance and Hermione had to fight the urge to run away as the door closed decisively behind him, leaving them alone.

He stopped as he reached her, his hands shakily rising to his mask. He took a deep breath before he pulled it away, tossing it to the floor carelessly.

Hermione choked back a sob.

Before her stood Draco Malfoy, his eyes searching hers anxiously, his pale features beautiful even when wrinkled with concern. His jaw was locked as he waited for some kind of response, his blonde hair falling handsomely against his forehead.

"I've never experienced anything like that," he admitted quietly, and suddenly the subtle smirk in his voice was overwhelmingly obvious; she knew she had recognized the voice. He stared at her, his gaze imploring as he continued. "You can't deny that you felt it too."

Hermione inhaled deeply.

Of course, he was right. Hermione had never felt so utterly complete until tonight. Her mind kept replaying the song, the way their voices had blended effortlessly into one of the most beautiful songs she had ever heard. It was as if they were meant to sing together.

And the kiss.

Hermione shuddered at that memory. She had only kissed two other boys, but nothing could compare to what she had felt when she kissed Draco. It was fulfilling, magnificent and not even she could deny how unquestionably happy she felt; the euphoric feeling had yet to fade.

As difficult as it was to admit, she knew it was wrong.

He was Draco Malfoy.

She was Hermione Granger.

It would never work; no matter how right it may have felt to them, the world would never let it happen.

"Please," his voice came out hoarsely as he took an awkward step forward.

"No," she finally responded reluctantly, forcing the words from her throat. "It would never work."

"Please," he continued, his hands reaching towards her mask.

Hermione did not resist as his fingers slipped around the edges of her mask. She uttered one final refutation, but it fell on deaf ears as he pulled the mask away from her face and let it fall to the floor.

He let out a gasp and took an instinctive step backwards, his expression torn between shock and disappointment though Hermione could not tell what the disappointment was directed towards. She regarded him through bleary eyes, another tear sliding down her face.

There was a long moment of silence as they stared at each other helplessly before Draco took a step forward. His eyes were resigned and the pain in his face was blindingly evident as he brushed a fallen curl out of her face.

"It would never work," Hermione repeated, trying to convince herself as Draco ran his knuckles along her jaw lightly. "You and I both know—"

"It would never work," he finished despondently, his voice somewhat distant. "And of course, Granger is always accurate."

Hermione leaned her head into his hand, closing her eyes tightly; how could something so wrong feel so impossibly right?

"After tonight," Draco said quietly after a short moment, "we will never speak of this night. It will remain our secret."

Opening her eyes, Hermione met his gaze and came to the realization that this was as difficult for him as it was for her. They stood there another short moment before Draco stepped towards her, gently kissing away her tears before stepping back.

"Draco…" her voice trailed off miserably as he began to walk away. Never in her entire life had she pictured this night ending with her saying a tearful goodbye to Draco Malfoy; he was her sworn enemy, a man who decidedly hated the fact that she was born of muggles and yet, here she was, praying the impossible was in fact possible.

He stopped at the sound of her voice, his head turning only slightly as though it would be too difficult to look at her directly. Even from the minimal angle, Hermione could see his features darken with remorse and his lips curl into a faint smirk. He then spoke quietly, the pain laced through his words as he left her with his final thoughts.

"You look beautiful tonight, Hermione."

And then he was gone, disappearing into the shadows of the castle.

In the course of one night, they had shared personal moments of pure magic and Hermione had allowed herself to grow attached to one of her greatest enemies. Whether she chose to accept it or not, she had willingly given a part of herself to Draco Malfoy and as she stared in the direction he had disappeared, she realized that he had probably done the same for her.

She stood there silently, the memories of the Masquerade Ball still painfully fresh in her thoughts. She drew the conclusion that no matter how much she wanted to forget the entire night, no amount of time would allow her to simply just let them go, because for now and forever, a part of his heart would belong to her and a part of hers would belong to him.

And not even time itself could change that truth.

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